Tuesday, November 14, 2017


beneath the sullen sunken fog
resides the trusting hope

light's delay

we tilt plain jars to pour
glory not ours
into where? the ravine?

soft the silky eyelids close
for sake of dreaming
when oppositions seem too harsh
and shoulders too cold for song of songs

still the passing by
when it gets warmer

Sunday, October 29, 2017

The Lurid Red Shift

"Wilson? I think I should leave or you should leave but when I try that, I start bleeding. See? My shirt is all bloody. Ow, I hurt. You're going to stay, right?"

He went to the next room and returned holding a cloth and a fresh t-shirt. "Are you all done showing Alexander his choices?"

"No, I'm bleeding!"

"I wish you weren't bleeding."

"A piece of my body is missing."

"When did that happen? Yesterday?!"

"I don't know. Does my Dad have it? Do you have it?" I turned. "Alexander, please! If you speak my name to me, I will stop bleeding. I believe it. I really do."

But Alexander only stared.

"Can you come closer?" I asked.

He remained kneeling in the same spot but lifted one of his arms and reached toward Wilson. It seemed unnatural yet brave, the way his arm stretched longer than its usual length and I thought about poking it or pulling on it, but knew deep in the marrow of my bones he would hate the direct interruption.

My heart picked up pace and I rushed in between the two of them, with no understanding of why I needed to do it except to know it would give me a position in an exchange that would otherwise exclude me completely.

When I did it, something shifted inside my head like two tectonic plates moving past each other in opposite directions.



"I don't know if I lost my eyes just now, or if I have an extra eyeball now or what. Where is my Dad?"

And darkness crept over the whole land.

Saturday, October 21, 2017

Over to Alexander

"I don't know how or when I got up here," I said. I was floating a foot below the ceiling with my arms stretched as if I had jumped from an airplane, without gravity. "I'm still not comfortable here. I can't do much if I'm like this."

"What do you mean you don't know how? You've been up there since Monday, pouring out all those interesting thoughts of yours. I'm very sorry," said Wilson.

I felt better immediately. "Not you. I wanted Alexander... to... We didn't get to make music together."

"I would have been happy to do it."

There was a whoosh in my stomach, the kind that happens on a rollercoaster or at the discovery of a big mistake.

He stepped onto a pile of college textbooks that had been left on the floor, and reached up with his hands around my hips to pull me down.

"That's more like it," I said."Is there anything we can do for Alexander?"

"I think so," said Wilson. "We can try showing him his choices."